


The Harder They Fall

by brohne



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Beating, Blood, Confinement, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Graphic Description, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2117349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brohne/pseuds/brohne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's not about the payment ... it's who I am...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Basso took a gulp of the wine and made a face. Stuff was sour. He set the cup down and leaned back in the booth, his eyes narrowing as a tall broad figure sat down across from him. The stained leather vest and thin cotton shirt did nothing to hide the muscular chest or the tattoos. The man’s face was mostly hidden by a hat and ratty scarf. He took off the worn hat and set it on the table. Dark greasy hair nearly obscured his eyes. He shoved it out of the way and shifted back in the seat. The heavy scent of tobacco and sweat filled the booth. Dark eyes peered at Basso.

“Can I help you?” Basso eyed the knife the man pulled from his belt.

“I certainly hope so. You’re Basso right?” He started trimming his nails with the knife in careful precise jerks of the blade.

“Yes.” Basso hesitated before answering. His gaze followed the blade for a moment before meeting the dark eyes. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Rafe. I was told if I needed something done you were the man to contact.”

“Depends.” Basso took another drink of his wine and immediately regretted it. He set the cup down with a disgusted sigh.

Rafe raised his eyebrows at him. He raised a hand and gestured to the barkeep.

“Depends on what, exactly?”

Basso eyed him for a moment then looked up as an expensive bottle of wine was set before him. His eyes widened seeing the label. It was a very good vintage. Throvian wine from one of their better years. He poured his remaining wine out in the potted plant on the windowsill and poured himself a cup.

“What you need done and how much you’re willing to pay.” Basso raised the cup to him and took a long drink. The wine was much sweeter with a heady aftertaste that had his tongue tingling. “Oh that’s nice.”

He drained the rest of the cup and set it down. Rafe poured him another one.

“I have something a bit … tricky that needs taken care of. I was told by a few people that of all the fences you’re the only one who can get the more difficult jobs done.”

“That’s nice of them.” Basso took another drink. “Like I said it depends on how tricky this job is and how much you’re willing to pay for it.”

Rafe sat back idly twirling the knife between his fingers. “In Southquarter there is an apartment that belongs to a Watch captain. I need some evidence planted there that points to Jeb Chokes as his murderer.”

Basso frowned. “That’s not normally the kind of job I take. You want a cleaner?”

“No I don’t need that. I just need someone who can get in and out of the apartment without being seen.” He set the knife down, the tip of it pointing toward Basso. “You got anyone that can do that?”

“I’ve got a few, but why Jeb?”

Rafe smiled. It was not a nice smile and Basso had to suppress a shudder. “He fucked up. He let some blackhand take everything we had. I think whoever did it intended for us to think Eddy Levak was behind it.”

“Oh?” Basso looked down at his cup swirling the contents around.

Rafe grunted. “Yeah, well hitting Eddy at the same time and taking the money he’d promised me personally was a pretty good clue. Eddy was pissing himself he was so scared. Anyway,”

Basso winced inwardly. He’d sent Garrett on that job. He should have known he would clean out both places. There probably hadn’t been anything of any value left.

“The rest of the gang is a bit fed up with Jeb and with the mess the Graven have made of things … well times are tight and no one wants to get paid in severed fingers.”

Basso snorted. “Can’t buy much with those.”

Rafe chuckled and topped off Basso’s cup. “Exactly, we need people to pay up and Jeb’s not getting the job done. Now, no one wants to kill him. He’s smart but if we pin this murder on him the Watch will have to take action. They’re already after him as it is.”

Basso took another drink and leaned back. He was pleasantly warm and probably more relaxed than he should be around this stranger, but right now he didn’t care. The wine was good.

“The only problem with this plan is that the Watch is pretty much gone since the riots. Those damned Graved killed every one they could find.”

“Really?” Rafe frowned, cocking his head to the side. He looked down at the knife on the table and set it spinning with a finger. “I’ll be honest I hadn’t paid much attention. This might not work like I’d thought then.”

“Jeb doesn’t leave South Quarter often does he?” Basso watched the knife spin, light glinting off the polished blade.

“Not often, but sometimes.”

“My suggestion would be to find a reason for him to have to go to Stonemarket or even Dayport and then let the Watch know he’s coming.”

Rafe nodded. “I’ve got a couple of merchants who’ve been ducking me at the docks. Maybe we’ll go pay them a personal visit. I wasn’t looking forward to having to kill that Captain anyway, he’s been a good informant and doesn’t cost much to bribe.”

Basso suppressed a shudder. He raised his glass pasting on a smile. “Right, get rid of Jeb and keep your contact.”

Rafe smiled back. “This has been good Basso, I appreciate the information. You keep that wine and I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

“Thanks! Sounds good.”

Basso watched him leave an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. “That was fucking weird. Oh well, can’t say no to free wine.”

 

Later that evening Basso sat in his office the bottle of wine within reach on his desk. There was nothing but the dregs left but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out.

“How long you going to nurse that bottle, Basso?”

Basso snorted and glanced over at the thief. “Long as I can. Not like I can afford any right now.”

“So how do you manage to afford that?” Garrett walked over to the desk but didn’t touch the wine.

“It was a gift.” Basso held up a hand at the look from Garrett. “I had a visit from an Eelbiter this afternoon. Seems they aren’t very happy with Jeb right now. The one I spoke to is planning on visiting a merchant house in Dayport. I think. Oh, and they know Eddy didn’t raid their place.”

Garrett shifted his weight glancing away. “Not my problem.”

“Yeah, let’s make sure it stays that way. Anyway, I don’t have much for you tonight. You might go check with one of the others.”

Garrett nodded. “I’ve got some things I was going to do anyway.”

“Alright. I need to get a new bird…”

 

Garrett left Basso eyeing the remaining bit of wine. The alley behind the Burrick was deserted, even the merchant he sometimes sold stuff to was gone. It didn’t really matter. He headed back to the Plaza taking the Thieves Highway toward Baron’s Way South. He wanted to know if the information this Eelbiter had given Basso was correct. Easiest way to do that would be to listen in on a few conversations.

It took a little while to get to Riverside. He’d decided that going straight down Baron’s Way was too risky and took a more circuitous route. It started raining in the meantime, slowing him down further as the roof tiles became slick. He wasn’t about to desert them. He’d only take to the actual streets once he ran out of roof. He pulled himself up onto a roof, blinking rain out of his eyes as he looked over at the canal. The Graven crossbowman that had patrolled along the railing was gone. Most of the Graven had deserted once it was known Orion was dead. Either dead of his cure or gone back to whatever miserable existence they’d been trying to escape, it didn’t matter to Garrett. All that mattered to him was that they were no longer patrolling, which made things a lot easier for him.

He’d passed Eddy Levak’s office and the Eelbiter Squat was just a couple of buildings down. He stood on the edge of the roof looking down. The brazier below hissed and spat in the rain. A couple of dock workers stood nearby trying to warm themselves. Looking up Baron’s Way he didn’t see anyone, though the rain obscured things. So much the better for him. Moving back down the roof he jumped off, landing lightly on the wooden sidewalk. The rain began to fall harder, the wind picking up a bit and smacking the side of his hood against his face. It was a miserable night and the perfect time to see if anyone was at the Eelbiter’s Squat. It was likely some were there to escape the rain.

A few minutes later he stood on the wooden platform just outside the open window. The driving rain was beginning to chill him. He peered inside where a couple of them stood at the table. One of them was drinking from a bottle similar to the ones in the crate behind him.

“Shit it’s pissing down now.”

“Aren’t you glad you listened to me? We’d still be down at Raker’s Ditch.”

“Yeah, but Jeb’s gonna skin us for not getting that coin.”

“What coin? Those dockfrocks ain’t done a lick of work since this whole Graven thing.”

“Yeah, Jeb’s probably gonna ship the prettier ones to Blackbrook anyway.”

Garrett shifted trying to get comfortable in the wet, watching as the two shared the alcohol between them. The talk turned to the recent lack of funds and the raid on the squat. He huddled closer to the window, trying to stay out of the worst of the rain.

“You think Jeb’s gonna be able to pay us this week?”

The other one shrugged. “We’re supposed to go rough up some merchant tomorrow night. Should be able to get paid then.”

“At the docks?”

“No. Rafe thinks comin’ to their home and scaring the piss outa them will get them to pay up.”

“What? We’re going to Dayport?”

“Seems like…”

“Shit…”

It was all Garrett needed to hear. The information seemed to be good and Rafe seemed to be edging out Jeb if he was leading the men on jobs like this.

 

The following evening Garrett headed back down to the Burrick to see if Basso had any other news for him. He wasn’t really in the mood for a job. He’d been plagued with nightmares and had slept little. He’d wandered around the clock tower for the last few hours trying not to think too much. He let his hand rest on the claw for a moment before shaking himself and heading down. He didn’t want to think about the dream he’d had about Erin. He had to believe that wherever she’d gone she was fine. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, instinctively melding to the shadows as he spotted a man standing at Basso’s desk. Basso was peering at a sheaf of paper in his hand. He tapped it with a blunt finger.

“I don’t know Rafe. This seems a bit…”

“I know it’s unusual but I thought this would put the fear into Jeb. He honestly thought the boys would wait till the end of the month to get paid. We gotta eat ya’ know and I’m not real fond of stealing food out of a gutter rat’s mouth when I know I can do better.” The man took his hat off and scratched at lank hair. “I’ll split what I can with you but your boy’s got to get this note into the house before second watch.”

Basso shook his head. “No. That won’t work. Not tonight. There’s no time. Give me till at least tomorrow to find someone to do it for you.”

“Shit! Basso come on. I thought you were good for this. Everyone says you’ve got a card you never show, the Master Thief.”

Basso’s eyes narrowed. “He takes jobs he wants. I can offer it and see what he wants to do.”

“But you don’t think he’ll take it?”

Garrett watched as Basso shrugged. Something was off with this conversation, but Garrett couldn’t quite place what bothered him just yet.

“He’s good. Very good. The best really. But this type of thing…” Basso shook his head and handed the papers back over. “Not really his style. You’d have to make it worth his while.”

“And I guess that means I’d need some coin up front.” Rafe sighed and shook his head. “Well, would this do?”

Garrett shifted around trying to see what Rafe was holding. There was the unmistakable thud of a bag of coin on wood. He heard a soft exclamation from Basso.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Raker’s Ditch. Overheard a man muttering about coin buried in the sewer so I went looking today. I figured it might be a good start to pay for the job.”

“Why don’t you just pay your men with it?”

Rafe shook his head. “Can’t, they think it’s cursed. The idiots would rather starve than take a single coin. Would be a lot easier if they weren’t so superstitious. But, this way I take care of several problems at once. I get my merchant to pay up, get rid of Jeb and pay my men.”

“Your men?” Basso raised an eyebrow.

Rafe’s chuckle sent a chill down Garrett’s spine. “They will be after tonight if you get this note to that house for me.”

Basso sighed and shoved his hat back on his head. “I’d really like to help you but I don’t have a way of contacting who you want. Not right now.”

“Really?” Rafe paused and turned to look around the room. Garrett was careful to stay perfectly still. “I could have sworn … alright well I’ll be up in the Burrick for a bit in case he shows.”

“No promises.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, otherwise I’ll have to see if I can convince the boys this coin ain’t cursed.”

Garrett watched Rafe leave, noting the smooth easy gait and confident way he held himself. He carried himself like a man used to fighting to get what he wanted. The shrewd gaze that sized up every opportunity looking for any opening. He hoped Basso wasn’t getting himself in deeper than need be.

Once Rafe was gone and Garrett heard his footsteps on the stairs up to the back entrance of the Burrick he stepped out of the shadow. He hadn’t been planning on taking a job, but anything was better than sitting at the Clock Tower and thinking about everything that had happened the last few months. He was tired of thinking about the same things over and over and wondering what he could have done differently. She was gone and it was probably for the best. Working with her would only have lead to more bitter arguments. He shook himself and headed over to where Basso stood as his desk.

“Maybe you should get a new bird.”

“Sh-it! Garret! How long you been there?”

“Long enough.” Garrett gestured to the desk. “What did he want?”

Basso let out a long sigh. “He wants this warning note left at the merchant’s house.”

Garrett frowned. “Can’t his men do that?”

“It’s where he wants it left that is the issue. He thinks leaving it on the man’s pillow will send a message that they can get to him at any time. Even in Dayport. They are going to be headed to another merchant's house to deliver their message personally.”

“The Graven didn’t have much trouble with Dayport.”

Basso grunted. “It’s going to take a while to rebuild. Stupid of them really. What was Orion thinking, letting them destroy half the city.”

“He wasn’t. He just wanted the power the Primal offered.” Garrett tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but failed judging from the look on Basso’s face. “Anyway, where is this note going?”

“One of the local merchants, a Kendric. Deals mostly in luxury items like chocolate, sugar and cloth. He lives on Hamilton Street just down from Reiter’s Place.” Basso looked up at him. “Wait, you aren’t really thinking of doing this are you?”

Garrett shrugged. “It’s different and it seems like it might pay pretty good.”

Basso chuckled. “It’s different alright. Well you heard the conditions. You’ve got two hours to get over there and get this where they want it. No later than nine.”

Garrett took the proffered note and tucked it away. “Not a problem.”


	2. Chapter 2

Getting into Dayport was easy. Finding the house didn’t take very long. It was one of the only ones that still showed any sign of life on the street. Many of houses were dark, the heavy wooden doors chained closed and the windows boarded over. Some were missing their doors altogether and the moonlight glowed on skeletal remains of burnt out dwellings. He could still smell the charred wood and occasionally the heavy sweet odor of death that even the rain from the day before couldn’t wash away. Underneath it all was the acrid tang of the river.

He approached the house from one of these abandoned buildings. Crouched on top of the roof next door he watched the house. The stately home stood a good two stories tall, the facade set with the same grey stone as the rest. Several windows on the bottom floor glowed with gold light, shadowy figures moving within. Looking down, he could see a single guard as he patrolled outside, sticking to the brightest lit areas. Garrett frowned. This was supposed to be a challenge. What happened to the fear and paranoia left over from the riots? Ah well. Most likely the master bedroom was on the top floor. This early in the evening there wasn’t likely to be anyone in the room. As it was all the windows facing him were dark.

A wall separated the two properties, one section of it joining the neighboring house. Dropping down from the edge of the roof, he walked along the top of the wall as he made his way around to the back of the house. There was a convenient balcony that probably lead right into the master or at least an adjoining room. The wall ended a few feet away from the bottom of the balcony. It was a simple matter to toss the claw and secure a rope.

Pulling himself up onto the balcony he knelt, listening for any guards moving around. The only sound was a distant muffled conversation from below. He unhooked the claw and wound the rope, putting both away. The balcony door wasn’t locked. He checked for any traps or wires before opening it just enough to slip inside.

The heady smell of incense greeted him. His feet sank into the plush carpet. He glanced around. A massive four poster bed dominated the room. The room itself was huge with large ornate furniture to match. He walked over to the bed, taking the note out. Laying it on the pillow he stood looking at it for a moment. This was too easy.

He looked around the room. Maybe there was something else here. They were obviously quite well off. He checked the nightstand, the desk, both wardrobes and moved on to the bathroom. Something was off. There was nothing of value, not even an ivory handled brush. Then again, times hadn’t been kind even to the wealthy. The closure of the docks was sure to have hurt the merchants quite badly. No wonder Jeb was having a difficult time getting his payments. But the docks were open again and trade had resumed. It wasn’t his problem. No, his current problem was that this house, or at least this room was devoid of anything of interest or value. If the bedroom was this way he didn’t hold out much hope for the rest of the house. Maybe it would just be best to go. He was still getting paid for this and he could hit a few other places on the way back home. Though it might not hurt to check at least one more room.

He knelt at the bedroom door peering through the keyhole. The hallway was deserted, a single wall sconce the only illumination. The area in front of the door itself was dark. The door wasn’t locked. He opened it and stepped into the hallway. No more thick carpet here, but the handwoven rug was still expensive looking. He started forward toward the next door down the hall. The room looked unused, the furniture draped in sheets. Might still be something of value hidden. Finding a painting on an interior wall that looked a little odd, he gently felt around the frame. Pulling the latch swung a section of the wall into a secret room. Garrett smiled to himself and stepped through the opening. It was dark, nearly pitch black the only light from a single round window set high on the wall. He gave himself a moment to allow his eyes to fully adjust to the dimness.

In the middle of the room was a low cabinet. Laid out on top of it were several pieces of jewelry that glittered alluringly in the low light. He started forward then stopped, remembering the trap in the bank vault. Best to check before trying to move anything. A careful search of the room revealed a series of traps. Disabling them he found another less conspicuous set on the cabinet itself.

“Traps on top of traps. Well they certainly aren’t paranoid or anything.”

Fingers trailing along the glass smooth finish on the wood he admired the massive gemstone set in the largest of the necklaces. He walked around to the front of the cabinet, the rug muffling his footsteps. He stopped just in front of the necklace. There was a click and he gasped as the floor fell out from underneath him. He threw himself forward, grabbing for the edge of the trap. The rug slid under his fingers, preventing him from getting a solid grip. He fell and landed hard, stumbling backward he slammed into the wall behind him. Righting himself he looked up. He could just make out the edge of the trap. There was a low thud as the wall swung in again. Garrett tensed. Someone was in the room with him. A shadow blocked out what little light there was. A soft chuckle made his skin prickle and his stomach lurched.

“That one gets them everytime.”

Another shadow joined the first one. “Shall we get him out or let the house guards find him?”

There was the sound of a match being lit and Garrett narrowed his eyes against the sudden glare of the lamp. In the light he could see that he was a good ten feet below the floor of the room. Two men he didn’t recognize peered down at him.

“Get him out.” Another voice commanded. Garrett frowned. There was something familiar about the voice, it felt like he should know who it belonged to.

One of the men grinned, showing off yellowed teeth. “Whatcha say Master Thief, ready to climb on up?”

Garrett clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. He reached for the claw but paused as one of the men flashed a knife. Even climbing up meant he’d have to somehow deal with the men as well. He reached for his bow and grabbed a choke arrow. It might be his only chance.

“Put it down or I’ll put a bolt in you.”

He froze seeing the man brandish a crossbow, light glimmered on the sharp metal tip of the bolt. Fingers tightening on the bow for a moment his mind raced, jumping from scenario to scenario. Everything he thought of ended badly. He was trapped more thoroughly than he ever remembered being. There were at least three of them waiting for him once he got out, possibly more. Releasing the bow, he let his hand drop to his side.

“Smart, I’d hate to waste a bolt.” The man with the crossbow smirked at him.

“Cole, go get him.” The disembodied voice ordered.

Garrett pressed himself back against the wall as the man passed his crossbow to his accomplice and jumped down. There was barely enough room for the both of them. If Garrett raised his arms he could brush either wall with his fingers, stepping forward a pace would have brought him within reach of the opposite wall. He started to grab his blackjack, but a sound from the man above stopped him. He tensed watching Cole rise to his full height. Garrett’s limbs felt weighted down and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“We don’t have all night Cole.”

“You sure this is him?” Cole glanced up before inching forward arms raised.

“Basso said he took the job, has to be.”

Cole shook his head and shrugged. “Alright, you say so…”

Garrett ducked under his lunge, but there was nowhere to go and he found himself once again with his back to the wall as he faced the man.

“Come on, don’t make this difficult.”

Garrett glared at the man. He stood a much better chance of escaping if they’d left him for the guards to find. Most likely they were after the bounty on his head. He glanced up realizing what the other man had said. Basso had told them he would be here. Basso would not do that. He wouldn’t have told anyone. Then it hit him where he knew the voice from. It was Rafe. This whole job was a set-up.

Garrett blocked the grab and jabbed the man in the ribs. Cole yelped but followed up with a hit that sent Garrett staggering back. Before he could recover Cole hit him again, knocking him to his knees. Breathing hard, his vision blurring, Garrett forced himself up and barely got an arm up in time to try and block the next blow. His head snapped back bouncing off the wall as Cole punched through his block. He slumped against the wall as everything faded, sounds muffled by the pounding in his skull.

“Well that was easy. Barely bloodied my hand. Toss me that rope.”

Garrett shoved at Cole as he took hold of an arm. Cole laughed and knocked him flat, a boot coming down on his stomach. Within moments Garrett’s wrists were securely bound in front of him and he was being hauled to his feet. Another rope was tied to his wrists and tossed back up to the man standing above.

“Pull him up, Buford.”

The rope jerked taut and Garrett fought the pull, bracing his feet. The blow from behind knocked him forward and his arms were wrenched up, pain lancing through his shoulders. He dangled in the air for a moment and then he was lifted clear of the trap. He lashed out trying to kick the man and was slammed to the ground, the air driven from his lungs. Stars exploded in his vision.

“Gimme that rope.”

Numb and dizzy, Garrett couldn’t stop them as they finished tying him up, his ankles securely bound. He lay blinking up at the men unable to form a coherent thought, too focused on trying to breathe and keeping the pain in his head manageable.

“Well, that went a lot smoother than I thought it would. Good job boys.” Rafe knelt down next to him, a smile tearing at his face. “We’ll get a proper look at him back at the squat.”

Rafe stood, his face once again obscured by darkness. Out of the corner of his eye Garrett caught movement then the world exploded into white.


	3. Chapter 3

Garrett woke to voices arguing above him.

“I didn’t kick him that hard.”

“He’s still bleeding, you idiot! I didn’t send you on this job to kill him!”

Garrett forced his eyes open and immediately shut them, the light stabbing through his head. He groaned and tried to roll to his side as nausea gripped him.

“There see, he’s waking up.”

“Ah fuck, get him up and get him some water before he is sick everywhere.”

Firm hands gripped him, pulling him into a sitting position. He let his head drop forward. It was too heavy to hold up and felt as though someone was trying to drive a wedge into his skull. When he opened his eyes again everything was blurry, but the light didn’t hurt as badly. He blinked trying to clear his vision and realized he was looking down at his bound wrists. Where was he? He started as a cup of water was thrust at him.

“Drink that.”

He raised his head to look at the man and then around at the room. He knew this place. It was the Eelbiters’ squat. Why was he here? He vaguely remembered them talking at the house … the memory slipped away like a ghost in fog.

“Come on. It’ll help with the headache.”

Garrett returned his attention to the man. He recognized him from the Black Market. Jeb, the taker of fingers. He clenched his fists, the rope cutting into his wrists, and looked down at the cup in Jeb’s hand. There was no telling what might be in it. It could be water or any number of things. He met Jeb’s look and shook his head, the motion making him dizzy.

“Tough guy, huh?”

Garrett gasped as the water was flung in his face. Jeb got to his feet, a sneer on his lips.

“I didn’t believe Rafe when he brought you back here, but he swears you are the so-called master thief. Those wanted posters are a bit misleading. I mean for someone with your reputation I expected someone a little more … substantial.” He smiled as the other men started laughing.

“He don’t weigh nothing.” Cole remarked with a snort. “I’ve had a harder time carrying a sack of flour.”

Garrett looked down, pain searing through his chest. He flinched, jerking backward as a knife embedded itself in the wood beside his feet.

“Cut him loose and get him up.”

Buford cut the rope around his ankles but left his wrists tied. He was jerked to his feet and found himself encircled by a thick wall of flesh. He glanced around, but they’d left him no opening. He couldn’t even see the window now. Someone shoved him from behind.

“He’s no bigger than your dockfrocks, Cole.”

Cole laughed. “Ain’t that the truth? Can’t believe this little shit is the one who stole our stuff and … is that make-up? He’s wearing kohl like the girls too!”

“Maybe you should put him to work with them until he pays us back.”

Garrett backed away as Buford reached for him, his heart lurching painfully in his chest. Something must have shown on his face, because they started laughing.

“I think that scared him. What you say Master Thief? Want to try a new profession?”

“Some master thief he is, all he had to do was deliver that note. Couldn’t even do that right. Couldn’t just do the job and go. No, had to try and get more than his share.” Rafe leaned down, his face only inches away. Garrett met the dark gaze for a moment but couldn’t hold it. Breathing was difficult, his legs weak and body numb. His mind raced but kept coming back to a memory he’d thought buried a long time ago. It never ended with just words.

Rafe grunted. “Basso said you were the best in the City. Basso is a fucking liar. You’re just a scrawny little gutter rat playing a game you can’t hope to win. I heard what happened to you, fucked up a job so bad you nearly killed yourself and your partner. Got the attention of the Thief-Taker himself.”

Garrett sucked in a breath as Rafe grabbed his chin in a bruising grip and forced his head up. He shoved at the memories trying to surface. Long dead ghosts that threatened with their whispers. _Filthy child. Worthless runt. Useless._

“I’m going to make you regret ever stepping foot in South Quarter. You tried to set up Eddy and thought you could get away with stealing from us. Yeah, you thought I didn’t know?” Rafe’s dark chuckle sent a tremor through Garrett. “I’ll deal with your fence in my own way, but you—you we are going to have some fun with.”

Rafe transferred his grip to his wrists. He pulled out the lockpick set and tossed them to the side. Garrett stared at him, trying to swallow the lump in his throat that was threatening to choke him. Rafe sneered at him and shoved him back.

Jeb nodded his head at Garrett. “Take everything.”

Someone grabbed the back of his hood, holding him fast. Panic flooded Garrett. He tried to twist away, but there was nowhere to go. One of them held him as the others started stripping his gear. His bow was tossed on the table, followed by the blackjack. Next went the quiver, the arrows he’d so carefully designed and fletched scattering across the floor with a clatter. His stomach was a lead weight, a sour metallic taste lingering in his mouth. Head pounding and vision blurred, he tried not to think about what was happening. Watching each item get tossed away ripped through him as if pieces of himself were being discarded, leaving him defenseless and weak.

Buford held up the claw. “That’s a sweet piece of work. I’m keeping this.”

Garrett twitched, barely stopping himself from trying to grab it back. The claw was more than just useful, Erin had left it for him. He liked to think of it as her peace offering after everything that had happened. It was the only connection he had with her now. He watched Buford play with it, his chest tight and throat burning.

The last of his equipment and weapons gone, Garrett hoped they would be satisfied. They never were though. Not these kind of men. Buford put the claw in his belt and pulled out his knife. He glanced over at Jeb who nodded. Garrett stepped back as Buford advanced. His back hit something solid and he stiffened as he realized it was one of the other men. He was shoved toward Buford. A yelp escaped as his feet were kicked out from under him. He twisted, trying not to land wrong. His balance was off and he barely managed to keep from smacking his head on the floor. He lay there breathing hard, the scent of dry wood mingled with the stench of blood. He managed to push himself to his knees and froze as a knife crossed his vision.

“I’d stay still if I were you.” Buford smirked.

“Try to save as much of the leather as you can boys.” Jeb said.

He watched as Buford slid the knife under the rope around his wrists. Buford was the only one between him and the window. He tensed, ready to bolt as soon as the rope was cut. He jerked his arm up, knocking Buford to the side and lunged forward. He made it two steps before he was jerked off his feet and slammed to the floor. Disoriented he looked up to see Rafe with a fistfull of his cape.

“I figured you might try something.” Rafe knelt beside him and chuckled. “You know, for someone who supposedly grew up on the streets you can’t fight for shit.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes but kept silent. Rafe laughed again, a hollow sinister sound. The amused look in the dark eyes sent a rush of heat through Garrett. They were toying with him and there was little he could do to stop it. If he retaliated they were sure to be that much more brutal with anything they had in mind and he didn’t want to get severely injured. They could easily kill him.

“He’s like that dog we got for the fights. It looked good but as soon as you put him in the pit he pissed himself and ran.”

“Yeah and what did we do with that dog?” Jeb asked.

“We used it as bait.”

Rafe cocked his head to the side as he looked down at Garrett. “Hold his other arm, Cole. Buford, you get his feet.”

Pinned, Garrett watched helplessly as they began cutting away all his leather armor. The harness was given to Jeb along with his bracers.

Buford held up a boot. “Shit, I don’t think these will even fit my boy.”

“They sure as hell aren’t going to fit you.”

“Toss them on the pile. The leather can be reused.” Jeb ordered.

Garrett clenched his jaw, blinking against the burning behind his eyes. He tried to pull away as Rafe pulled him up to sit. The blow knocked him to the side and Rafe jerked him back upright. Garrett flinched as cold steel slid up his back, cutting through the lacing and his undershirt as well.

“Don’t move too much.” Rafe smirked. “I’d rather not accidentally stab you. That would defeat the whole purpose.”

His hood was ripped back and he cringed as the knife skimmed over his shoulder, slicing through the leather seams. Garrett closed his eyes as cold air enveloped him. The comforting weight and closeness of the leather was gone. His thin cotton undershirt was little protection against the chill night air and now it was mostly ribbons. Pulled to his feet he tried not to shiver, uncomfortably aware of Rafe’s body heat next to him. He tuned out the others discussing which bit of leather they wanted and what they were going to use them for. It was going to take him months to make a new outfit, if he could even find enough leather again. Rafe grabbed his arm and shoved him past where the group was pulling apart his outfit. His stomach clenched and his knees threatened to buckle as Rafe dragged him over to Jeb. Jeb lounged against the wall as he packed his pipe.

“You want to do it tonight or wait till tomorrow?”

Jeb looked Garrett up and down and raised an eyebrow. “We’ll go at daylight.”

He struck a match and lit the pipe, sucking on it for a moment. Garrett watched him, trying to discern what they had in mind. He wasn’t sure what else they could do besides kill him or turn him over to the Watch who would then hang him. Jeb took another puff on the pipe, the thick heady smelling smoke filling the air. He took it out of his mouth and jabbed the end toward Garrett.

“Lock him up for the night.”

“Where?”

Jeb nodded his head to the right. “Clean out the chest.”

Rafe chuckled. “Good idea. Buford, come here. I need you to clean out the chest.”

Numb, Garrett watched them take out the few items they’d stored in the chest. He clearly remembered taking what valuables he’d found in it. Part of him desperately hoped this was just them trying to scare him, though they’d already been pretty thorough with that. It wasn’t until Rafe’s grip on his arm tightened and he pulled at him that Garrett realized they really were going to lock him in the chest. He jerked back, taking Rafe by surprise and getting his arm free. Jeb was right there waiting. The blow doubled him over and before he could recover Rafe grabbed his hair and yanked him toward the alcove. Pain shot through his head and Garrett grabbed Rafe’s wrist, trying to pull free. He gasped for air, his stomach aching from more than the blow as Rafe dragged him forward.

Garrett lashed out as they reached the alcove. He wasn’t going in there. He wasn’t. Everything started to grey out and he realized he couldn’t breathe. Nothing seemed real anymore. He wondered if this was all another hallucination. Maybe he’d finally gone crazy. He fought Rafe, trying his best to get free. He yelped as Rafe resorted to hitting him.

“Maybe he’s still got some fight in him.”

“Nah, he’s just scared shitless.”

“C'mon Rafe, how long is this going to take?”

The blows became harder as the other men joined Rafe. Garrett ended up curled on the floor, trying to protect his head with his arms. Blood ran warm and thick over his lips, gagging him as he tried to breathe.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Jeb’s voice seemed to come from somewhere very distant. Garrett couldn’t get his eyes to focus as he was picked up and carried. He couldn’t lift his head, his limbs feeling as if they belonged to someone else.

“He’s out.”

“What if he doesn’t survive the night, Jeb?”

“Then we’ll dump his body on Basso’s doorstep. He’ll live. I’ve seen dockfrocks survive worse.”

“Move out of the way.”

Garrett couldn’t bite back the yelp as he was tossed down, his head smacking the side of the chest. He struggled to push himself up and managed to catch the lid as Rafe started to close it. Desperation gave him strength as he pressed upward. Rafe swore at him and lifted the lid slightly before slamming it down. Garrett cried out as the edge caught his hand. He snatched it back as soon as the pressure eased, scraping the top of his fingers raw. Cradling his numb hand to his chest he tried not to choke on the blood running down the back of his throat. He managed to shift around until he was sitting, the top of his head just brushing the lid. He tilted his head forward until warm blood dripped on his leg. His stomach roiled and he shivered as the barely suppressed panic started making inroads through his control. He clenched his hurt fingers, trying to distract himself with the pain. It didn’t work for long.

He kicked at the end of the chest, jarring himself and setting off all the various aches he’d been ignoring. Why were they doing this? What possible reason could they have? From what they’d said it wasn’t for the bounty, since they weren’t turning him over to the Watch. Yet. They could have killed him outright at the house and hadn’t. The entire thing had been a set up. But why? Why pretend there was a rift between Rafe and Jeb?

Wiping at the blood on his face with a trembling hand, Garrett tried to think. He had to think about anything but where he was or how badly everything hurt. He had to figure out how he was going to get away from them and hopefully get his stuff back. His outfit was a complete loss, but if he could get to his equipment there might yet be hope. He tried pushing up on the lid. It didn’t budge. Had they locked him in?

_He can stay there till he learns his lesson._

Garrett cringed and shook his head, willing away the memory. Jeb had said they’d be leaving in the morning. They weren’t going to leave him locked in here. A chill ran through him and he wrapped his arms around himself.

Don’t get caught. That was the first thing he’d learned at the orphanage. Get caught and bad things happened. Getting caught meant beatings, and later … later it was a beating, then getting locked away in the box. A box like this one.

“No.” He clutched at his head, desperate to keep the memory at bay. He couldn’t even remember the man’s face. He did remember the terror and the hopelessness that set in thicker and darker than the interior of the box. He remembered being certain after the second day that they’d forgotten him and had left him to die. He shivered, gripping his hair for a moment as he tried to slow his breathing. Something hit the lid with a thud, startling him. His already fractured self control splintered and broke. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was too exhausted to move and his throat hurt from yelling.

Muffled voices reached him.

“Here, you win. Didn’t think the little bastard could keep at it for an hour.”

“If he starts up again knock him out. I want some sleep tonight.”

“I’ll be back later, I’m gonna go see Sally.”

“Just be back by dawn.”


	4. Chapter 4

Garrett lay curled as tight as he could to avoid touching the sides of the chest. He’d lost track of how long it had been. He was cold, hungry and scared they’d left him.

“Matron won’t leave me. Not like Izzy.” He put a hand over his mouth as he realized he’d spoken aloud. He had to be quiet. Matron didn’t like it when they were noisy. But that wasn’t why he was here. No. He’d taken something. Something that wasn’t his. But he’d been so hungry and it was just right there on the table. He was still hungry and now he hurt too. His breath hitched as there was a series of thuds that vibrated through the box.

“Go wake up the others,” came the gruff order.

Was Matron back now? Garrett tried to sit up, but it hurt to move and his limbs didn’t respond at first. He rubbed a sleeve over his face, wincing at the bruises. He flinched and pressed himself back against the side of the box as the lid opened. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden brightness, his heart racing. Were they going to let him out now? Had he been quiet enough this time?

“Get up.”

Garrett raised his head to look at the man. “Matron said I can come out?”

“Matron? What the fuck are you on about? Get out.”

Garrett nodded and struggled to his feet. Moving hurt much more than he’d thought it would. He bit his tongue, trying to hold back the whimper as he clambered out of the box. He made it over the side and crumpled at the man’s feet. It hurt too much to move. Sitting on the floor, he leaned against the box and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as tears threatened. Crying would only mean getting hit again. But it hurt so much.

There was a grunt above him. “Where are the others?”

“Jeb is on his way. Buford’s hung over but Cole is getting dressed. You sure you wanna do this Rafe? I mean can’t we just kill him and be done with it?”

“No. That would defeat the purpose. Basso is going to learn that this is our territory and he’s not to send his thieves after our stuff. This one,” Garrett flinched out of the way as the man kicked at him. “Well, who better to use to teach the fat fence we own this town? No, he needs to be alive to deliver the message. Besides we can always kill him later if Basso steps out of line.”

Garrett pressed himself back as the man knelt in front of him. He glanced at him, then away. There was a soft chuckle.

“What’s your name anyway?”

Garrett hesitated meeting the dark gaze for a moment. “Garrett.”

“The Garrett, hmm.” The grin had a vicious twist to it. “You’re a lot of trouble for no bigger than you are.”

“I-I’m sorry. Please don’t tell Matron. I’ll give it back or-or I can find something else.”

Rafe sat back on his heels, a shocked look crossing his face. Rafe looked up at the other man who shrugged. “I didn’t think I kicked him that hard…”

Rafe turned back to Garrett and got to his feet. “Get up.”

Garrett clutched at the side of the box as he struggled to his feet. “Please don’t tell Matron. I was quiet, wasn’t I?”

“No you weren’t.”

Garrett looked down, clutching at the hem of his bloodstained shirt. He hadn’t been quiet enough but they’d still let him out. It must mean something worse was going to happen. Plus there was blood and dirt on his clothes now, his sleeve streaked with black and red. Something else to be in trouble for no doubt. He nodded, trying to blink away the tears that threatened.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a bark of laughter from the other man. “I think locking him in the chest addled his wits.”

“Maybe so.” Rafe sighed. “Go get the rope.”

Garrett was careful not to move. He could hear the thud of boots on the stairs and another pair of voices.

“Shit, it’s cold out there. I bet it snows the next day or two.”

“We’re gonna be throwing dead beggars in the harbor again, aren’t we?”

“Well we can’t make anything from selling the bodies anymore.”

Garrett wrapped his arms around his middle, keeping his head down as the other two men approached. The heavy thick smell of tobacco smoke burned the back of his throat. He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here or how to get back.

“Heh, told you he’d survive the night.”

“More or less, something’s not right with him.” Rafe said.

“Well you did beat the piss out of him last night. I’m surprised he can stand. Anyway, we might as well get this over with. I’m ready to be rid of him.” Jeb said.

Garrett recoiled as Rafe grabbed the front of his shirt. He flung his arms up to ward off the blow as Rafe raised his other hand.

“Don’t please! I’m sorry!”

The men laughed. Garrett risked a glance up at Rafe who was peering closely at him.

“You want to go back in the box?”

“No! No please, please I’ll be quiet. I won’t take anything else.” Garrett pleaded with him. He couldn’t go back in there. He didn’t want to end up like Izzy.

The laughter died out as Rafe let go of his shirt and looked at him. “You do what I say and I won’t put you back in there.”

Garrett nodded. “Okay.”

“Get undressed and then we are going for a walk.”

Garrett paused and Rafe raised his eyebrows. Fear prodded Garrett and he pulled the shirt off, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Something wasn’t right. Matron never let them go outside unless it was to work. Maybe that’s what they were doing. But he was going to need different clothes. These were stained with blood. He glanced down, realizing that the blood wasn’t just on his shirt but coated his hands and ran down his chest. Where had all the blood come from, and why was there black on his hands too?

“Pants too.”

Garrett did as asked and stood shivering, trying to ignore how his skin itched where the blood had dried. His whole body hurt and he was so cold.

“Give me your hands.”

Garrett raised his arms and watched as Rafe tied his wrists together. This wasn’t right. What were they doing? He glanced at the other men who’d gone strangely silent. They were watching him like adults always watched him, with a mixture of pity and contempt.

“You weren’t joking, Rafe. Something’s definitely not right with him.”

“Maybe he’s just that scared of us.”

“Good. Let’s go. Sooner we get this over with the better.”

Rafe grabbed Garrett’s shoulder and pulled him out of the small room where the chest sat. He was shoved through the doorway and past the locked cabinet toward the stairs. He limped down the stairs and stopped on the bottom one, not sure which door to head towards. Rafe shoved by him and opened the door to the right.

“Give me that other rope.”

Garrett frowned as the second rope was threaded through the first. This was all wrong. Nothing was the way he remembered it. A gust of frigid wind hit him and he shivered. Was this another punishment? The hollow ache in his stomach grew more pronounced.

“You got your crossbow in case the Watch decides they want to interfere?”

“I’ve got it.”

Rafe led him through the door and down the steps to the alley. Garrett followed, careful not to trip over the boards placed along the dirt alley. They passed a beggar huddled beside a barrel at the end of the building. The man turned to watch them, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Garrett. The piercing stare scared Garrett and he quickly turned away. He shuddered as his bare feet met the freezing cobblestones of Baron’s Way. By the time they’d made it to the gate that led to Stonemarket his feet were burning and he shook uncontrollably, his teeth chattering.

Something wasn’t right about this. Why were they leaving? Why hadn’t they given him any clothes? He glanced back over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the buildings before the gate shut. The high thin clouds were turning pink with the dawn. Dawn? He should be home. He shook his head, trying to figure out why nothing seemed right. The movement made everything spin and his stomach lurch. He tried to work some moisture into his mouth to swallow and hopefully keep from throwing up. The rope snapped tight, jerking his arms.

“Keep moving.”

He shuffled along behind Rafe, staying as close as he could to the larger man. It helped block some of the stiff morning breeze that swirled down the street. The other three men walked to either side but didn’t pay him any attention. What was going on?  
Looking up the hill he recognized the guard tower. He looked around again. They weren’t far from Market Street and the Watch Station. He shouldn’t be here. Matron would be mad he was … no, that wasn’t right. That was years ago. He blinked several times, trying to clear his thoughts. He looked up at the back of Rafe’s head and jerked to a stop, looking around. A shutter banged open above and he spun around. He had to find cover. He was out in the open with no protection. The rope brought him up short, nearly yanking him off his feet. He braced himself and jerked the rope. Rafe grunted and rounded on him, the blow knocking him back a step. He choked back a cry, his ears ringing. The pressure in his chest made breathing difficult. He shrank back as Rafe advanced on him, winding the short length of rope around his arm as he did so. Glancing past him, Garrett could see the other men watching. He looked up to find Rafe scowling down at him.

“Don’t think I won’t drag you.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes and Garrett looked away. He swallowed convulsively, his whole body weak and shivering from more than the cold. What had happened? Why had he thought …? Nausea assailed him and he gulped. What had happened in that chest? He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as voices and faded images surrounded him again. A gust of wind hit him and he opened his eyes. Rafe was watching him, his expression unreadable.

He turned away and started walking again. Garrett had no choice but to follow, forced into a trot to keep up with Rafe’s longer strides. Each step sent another jolt of pain through him, his vision blurring. He clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the way his whole body hurt. Trying to ignore the biting wind. Trying to ignore how exposed he was in every sense. He didn’t want to think about what was happening. If the Watch saw them now, he was as good as dead. He glanced up at the brightening sky. It was now light enough that the shadows were retreating and with them any chance he had of escaping.

The guard tower was empty and only one Watchman stood at the base. Garrett kept as close to Rafe as he dared, thankful the guard most likely couldn’t see him surrounded by the other men. It didn’t keep his heart from pounding hard enough to make him dizzy, little points of light dancing along the corners of his vision. They turned the corner and started up the hill. Garrett grabbed for Rafe’s arm as his legs gave out.

“Let go!” Rafe shook him off, sending him sprawling.

Straining to get to his feet Garrett made it to his knees when Rafe gave the rope a vicious jerk sending him back to the ground.

“You going to walk, or am I going to drag you?”

Sucking in a ragged breath, Garrett forced himself to his feet. The pain made him light headed and nauseous. By the time they got to the fork at Market Street he was nearly sobbing with each breath. It was taking all his focus just to keep putting one foot in front of another. They had to stop so Cole could open the gate. Garrett wavered, his vision seeming to pulse in and out. The clank and rattle of the gate opening had him ducking down behind Rafe. He crouched there, pulse racing as he tried to regain control. The Burrick was close. He could see it. He could make it that far. He shot to his feet as Rafe turned to him and nearly overbalanced as his vision went dark for a moment. Staggering he tried to follow Rafe.

Clock Tower Plaza was awash in early morning sunlight. Garrett made the mistake of looking over toward the Clock Tower. The next thing he knew he was face down on the ground, a startled cry escaping him.

“What’s going on over there!”

“Shit.” Jeb kicked at Garrett, eliciting another cry of pain. “Get moving, I’ll deal with the Watch.”

Rafe didn’t give him a chance to get up. He snapped the rope tight and Garrett just managed to kick himself over onto his back as Rafe started pulling him. The next few minutes were some of the worst Garrett could remember. It didn’t take long being dragged over the rough stone before he was leaving a trail of blood. Rafe stopped at the entrance to the back alley behind the Burrick. Garrett couldn’t find the strength to move and lay staring up at the birds flitting by overhead. His arms were grabbed and someone picked him up and slung him over their shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

Basso jolted awake. Some idiot outside was yelling. At this hour? He ran a hand over his face and sat up. He squinted at his pocket watch. It wasn’t even seven in the morning.

“Shit it’s cold.” He shivered and got to his feet. He was awake now, might as well go get some coffee and see what there was to be done to get the day started. He’d just gotten dressed when there was a commotion outside in the alley.

“Too early for stupid shit.” He shook his head and put his hat on. He started for the stairs and stopped as he noticed several figures in the alley at the top. He frowned as he recognized Rafe. The others he didn’t recognize right away. He backed up as Rafe and the other men walked down the stairs.

“Bit early for a house call Rafe.”

The big man smirked at him. “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s a house call. More like a delivery.”

Basso frowned as Rafe gestured to one of the other men behind him. A small pale naked figure was shoved forward, his wrists tied and dark head bowed. At first glance he thought it was one of the street kids, then he remembered most of them were dead of the Gloom or starvation. Basso looked at Rafe, then back at the smaller man who was visibly shaking.

“What’s this?”

The men started laughing and Rafe shoved the man toward him.

“You mean to tell me you don’t recognize him?” Rafe grabbed the dark hair and jerked the man’s head up. The mismatched gaze darted around the room before finding Basso, his eyes widened for a horrified instant and then squeezed shut.

Basso’s heart faltered for a moment. “Garrett…”

Rafe grinned. “I thought you said you sent us the best you had? _The_ Master Thief. I think I want my money back Basso.”

Basso tore his gaze away from Rafe to look at Garrett again. He barely recognized the man without his normal outfit. From what Basso could see in the dim morning light it looked as though blood coated the side of Garrett’s face and matted his hair. His frown deepened, seeing the dirt as well as numerous darkening bruises all over him. What had they done to him? Why would they do this? How had they even caught him?

“I don’t return money on completed jobs.” Basso mumbled as he tried to think.

“Really?” Rafe nodded. “I can understand that. You do run a business after all. However you promised me you’d send your very best to get this done and you lied.”

Basso pressed his lips together his fist clenching at his side. “Garrett is the best. I don’t know what happened or what you did but—”

“He failed. Pure and simple. He couldn’t just do the job and go. A lot like when you sent him to Eddy’s, hmm?”

A chill ran through Basso and he felt the blood drain from his face. Rafe smirked and looked back at the other men.

“You seem to think we are stupid. You aren’t as smart as you think, and this little shit isn’t as good as he thinks he is.” Rafe jerked Garrett’s head around, getting a yelp from the thief. “So if you’d like to continue doing business, you’re going to do things our way.”

“Your way?” Basso nearly choked on the tremor in his voice.

“That’s right. Our way.” Jeb took a couple of steps toward Basso and gestured at Garrett. “You’re lucky I’m letting him live. I was just going to give you back his fingers. I don’t really think he’ll be of much use to you anymore as it is. By this evening everyone will know what happened. By morning he’ll be lucky to find a corner to beg from, if someone hasn’t come ‘round to collect the bounty on him. You tell the rest of the thieves working for you that if they don’t want to end up like him or worse, they’ll stay out of South Quarter. From now on you’ll answer to me. Is that clear?”

Basso’s gaze darted from Jeb to Garrett. He nodded. “It’s clear. Will you please let him go?”

Jeb raised an eyebrow at him. Basso watched him turn back to Rafe and nod his head in Garrett’s direction.

“We will as soon as you refund the coin Rafe gave you.”

Basso swallowed and tried not to fidget. “I-I don’t have all of it. I can give you what’s left but -”

He stopped as Jeb turned back to him, something sinister glinting in his eyes. “How much is left?”

“A-about half, but I can get you the rest!” Basso finished in a rush as Jeb’s eyes narrowed. He raised his hands. “Look, just give me a few days, a week at the most. I can get it. The Thief-Taker isn’t coming around for the Black Tax any more and I can see about getting the rest of it.”

“You’ve got a fortnight.” Jeb reached back and took hold of Garrett. Basso cringed, his whole body running cold as the thief let out a whimper. Jeb pulled Garrett around in front of him and shoved him to the ground. “If you don’t have it, I’m coming back for him. I could fetch a decent price for him in Blackbrook. So either you get the coin or he’s going to end up in slavers chains, if I’m in a good mood. If not, I’ll just kill him.”

“I’ll get it.” Basso managed around the tightness in his throat.

“Get the rest of it now.”

Basso nodded and stepped back. Going to the wall, he yanked the painting out of the way and grabbed the bag. He should have known. He should have listened to that stupid little voice telling him something was off the first time he’d talked to Rafe. Clutching the bag to his chest, he turned and started back over to the group. Garrett hadn’t moved from where Jeb had shoved him down, but he was shaking worse now. Basso held out the bag.

“Here.”

Jeb took the bag and handed it to Rafe, who dumped it out and counted the coins. He nodded.

“Almost exactly half.”

Jeb looked at Basso, a smirk crossing his face. “A fortnight Basso, and for each day that passes I’m charging you a coin for keeping me waiting.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. Best get to work then.” Jeb chuckled and put his boot on Garrett’s shoulder and pushed him down flat against the floor. He leaned down and taking a knife from his belt cut the rope around Garrett’s wrists.“Just remember what I said.”

Basso stood frozen as the men walked back up the stairs. How could this have happened? Garrett was usually untraceable. Most times no one ever even knew he’d been around except for the missing valuables. The soft groan at his feet snapped him out of his stupor. Garrett needed his help. Looking down, Basso’s eyes widened seeing the extent of Garrett’s injuries. His back was raw and bloodied and littered with more bruises. His heartbeat pounding in his ears and his stomach aching, Basso knelt down to help Garrett up as the thief struggled to sit. Garrett was looking anywhere but at him, his gaze unfocused and eyes overbright.

“Can you stand?”

“Don’t touch me!”

Basso rocked back and nearly fell as Garrett shoved him away. Stunned, Basso looked at Garrett who was huddled on the ground, his arms wrapped around himself.

“Garrett … you’re hurt. Let me help you.” Basso started to reach for him again and paused.

“D-don’t-don’t touch me.” A jolt of pain went through Basso as the words dissolved into soft sobs. After a moment he got to his feet and went to find a blanket. Finding the cleanest one he had, he walked back over and draped it around Garrett, careful not to touch him. Unsure what to do, he went to find something to clean and bind Garrett’s injuries once he would allow him to help. While he was at it he got some food and an extra blanket. He wondered what had happened to Garrett’s outfit, though he was pretty sure he’d probably never know. Part of him hoped he was still asleep and this was just a particularly vivid nightmare. Seeing Garrett like this was definitely the stuff of nightmares. Not to mention the consequences for them both if he didn’t get the money.

“Shit.” Basso muttered as he walked back down the stairs with an armload of supplies. He needed to get in contact with his other thieves. Immediately. Though taking care of Garrett was his first priority.

Garrett was exactly where he’d left him. The blanket had been pulled up over his head so that all Basso could see was a hand clutching the front of it.

“Garrett?” Basso was careful to keep his voice soft but the blanketed form still jumped. “Hey, it’s just me.”

Garrett turned his head just enough for Basso to see his bloodied nose and mouth, but didn’t move otherwise. Basso grimaced. This wasn’t going to be easy. Or pleasant. He didn’t want to hurt Garrett, but he had some serious looking wounds and the man was in obvious pain.  
“I brought you some water.” Basso knelt down beside the thief. He held the cup out so that Garrett could see it. It took a long moment before Garrett’s other hand emerged from the blanket to take the cup. Basso frowned, seeing the raw and swollen fingers. They hadn’t broken them, had they? He wouldn’t put it past that lot. His stomach did another uncomfortable flip, thinking about what Jeb had said. He didn’t even want to think about it. He watched Garrett tentatively put the cup to his lips and take a short drink. He was shaking too much to do any more, and Basso quickly took the cup before he spilled it.

“Let’s get you off the floor.”

The blanket dipped as Garrett nodded. “Floor is dirty.”

Basso frowned at the odd tone but didn’t say anything else as he got to his feet. Garrett struggled to rise, and Basso swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He’d never seen Garrett stumble around like this. He had to grab hold of Garrett’s arm to keep him from collapsing. Garrett flinched and tried to pull away.

“I can walk!”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Basso kept a firm grip on Garrett, trying to guide him over to the bed. “We’re just going to the bed.”

“I can walk! Please don’t drag me again. I can walk.”

Basso swore under his breath as Garrett wobbled in his grip. This was not going well, Garrett didn’t even seem to realize he was safe now. The thin frame shook against Basso as they walked. He had to adjust his grip at one point and was dismayed at how cold Garrett’s skin was. How long had they left him exposed to the freezing morning air? He was wishing he’d thought to grab extra blankets, the one wasn’t going to be enough. By the time Basso got Garrett to the bed, he was practically carrying the thief. Careful not to touch any of the visible bruises, Basso helped him sit on the edge of the bed. Garrett pulled his legs up under the blanket and curled in on himself. Basso stared at him for a moment before swiping a hand across his eyes. He blinked several times and took a deep breath. He had work to do, there wasn’t time to be upset. That would come later.

Tentatively he tugged the blanket back, trying to uncover Garrett’s head. “Garrett, we need to get you cleaned up. You don’t want to get an infection.”

Garrett didn’t move and didn’t protest as Basso pulled the blanket away from his head. Able to fully see the thief’s face in the light for the first time since he’d arrived in the cellar, a surge of heat shot through Basso’s chest, his vision darkening for a moment. Blood covered the right side of Garrett’s head, matting his hair and running down his neck to his shoulder. His nose had also been bloodied, and he was going to have a black eye. The remnants of the kohl were smeared along with the blood and ran down his cheeks and across his temple into his hairline. He still wouldn’t look at Basso, his gaze on the floor.

Steadying himself, Basso touched the side of Garrett’s head. Garrett flinched, but didn’t move away. Basso was going to have to clean the blood out of his hair before he could tell how bad the injury was. Shifting around to Garrett’s side, he started to pull the blanket away from his back. Garrett hissed and stiffened. Basso stopped, realizing the blanket was soaked with blood in spots. One thing at a time then. He turned to get the bowl of water. It was cold, but it couldn’t be helped at the moment. Wetting the cloth, Basso knelt in front of Garrett, trying to catch his eye.

“This is cold, but we need to get you cleaned up.”

Garrett refused to meet his gaze, but Basso recognised the look in his eyes. It wasn’t just pain and fear but defeat, a peculiar hopelessness Basso had never thought he’d associate with Garrett.

“Okay, try to hold still, I’m going to clean the blood out of your hair. Or try to.”

He pressed the rag to the side of Garrett’s head. Garrett whimpered, but didn’t move. As gently as possible, Basso cleaned what blood he could, so that he could see how bad the injury was. There was a cut and a lump, but nothing worse. Basso let out a shallow breath, not realizing he’d been holding it. Now to make sure there weren’t any other serious injuries.  
He got up and rinsed out the rag. When he turned back to Garrett, he found him with his eyes shut tight and the blanket back up over his head. Basso sighed and sat down beside Garrett. He pulled the blanket back again, watching as Garrett’s eyes flickered open.

“I need the blanket. Your back is a mess.”

Garrett’s gaze slid over to him for a moment before he dipped his head once and relinquished his grip on the cloth.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a nice clean wool one waiting for you as soon as I’m done. I got you some breakfast … well, dinner for you.” Basso kept talking as he started to pull the blanket loose from where it had become stuck to the wounds. Garrett flinched and gasped, but didn’t try to stop him. Basso left the blanket around Garrett’s waist as much to keep him covered as to catch any of the excess water. “This water is cold, but it’ll get you clean, and then we’ll see about the rest of you. I hope you like gruel, cause it’s all I could find this time of the morning. I did pinch some sugar to put in it for you. And there is a roll. I got some clothes too. They’ll be too big, but we’ll worry about something that fits later.”

Basso continued to ramble as much to distract Garrett as himself as he cleaned the dirt and blood from the lacerations. Garrett’s upper back had taken the most damage, the skin completely gone in spots. Basso had to change the water in the bowl several times before he was finished cleaning all the various wounds. The worst were his back and head as well as the cuts on his bare feet. His wrists were raw from the rope, as were his knees, apparently from falling. A couple of times Garrett appeared to nearly fall asleep, then would jerk awake his fingers tightening on the blanket across his lap. Satisfied that all the major wounds were clean, Basso turned his attention to Garrett’s face.

Garrett closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath as Basso gently ran the cloth across his cheek. The blood slowly came away, revealing bruises on his cheek and jaw. Lips pressed together, Basso refrained from cursing Jeb and Rafe aloud. Garrett wasn’t shaking as badly as he had been when he first arrived but every now and then a tremor would go through him. Watching Garrett’s head dip forward for what seemed like a tenth time in as many minutes Basso decided anything else could wait. He still looked a frightful mess but the worst of the blood was cleaned off him.

“Okay, that’s as good as I can get it right now. Do you want to get dressed now and eat?”

Garrett finally looked up at him, blinking a few times, his eyes bloodshot. “They took everything.”

“I know. We’ll get it back.” Basso got to his feet and walking over to the desk picked up the shirt and pants along with the thick blanket.

He set the clothing and blanket next to Garrett. “Do you want my help getting dressed?”

Garrett frowned down at the clothes. “No. I can do it.”

“Alright, as soon as you are ready I have some food for you too. This is getting cold, and you need something to help warm you up.” Basso turned away to allow Garrett a chance to compose himself and get dressed. He closed his eyes as cloth rustled and there was a soft gasp. He cleared his throat, but didn’t turn back around. “If ... if uh, you need help … just let me know.”

Walking over to the desk, Basso stirred the sugar into the gruel. He had no idea if Garrett would even eat, but he had to try. If only he’d trusted his instincts and told Rafe to fuck off, but no, he’d been all too happy to accept that expensive wine, the cursed coin and the job. The job that Rafe and Jeb had planned specifically so they could hurt and humiliate Garrett. Dropping the spoon, Basso clutched the edge of the desk, his head bowed. He took several shaky breaths and swallowed the nausea. He had to find out what else they had planned. He couldn’t allow Garrett to be hurt any worse. Even as little as Garrett talked about himself, Basso knew that losing his title of Master Thief or even just being known as a competent thief was going to do just as much if not more damage than the beating they’d given him. Was that why they’d left him alive? To suffer with the knowledge they’d stripped him of everything, including his very identity?

Basso clearly remembered the last moments in the Keep when he’d realized Garrett was going after the Great Safe. Part of him had been terrified to see his friend so willing to risk everything for something that might not even exist. But it wasn’t about any payment or treasure for Garrett. He simply did it to prove that he could. He’d gotten hurt that time too and could have easily been killed, either by the Thief-Taker or in the building collapse. This was different though. This should have been an easy routine in-and-out job for Garrett. Shaking his head, Basso picked up the spoon and put it in the bowl. Maybe one day he’d find out what happened, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. Maybe he didn’t really want to know, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear how it had happened. It was enough that it had.

Picking up the bowl, he turned back to the bed. Garrett was seated on the bed and had the pants on, but was staring down at the shirt in his hands. Even sitting down, Basso could tell the pants were at least three sizes too big. It would have to do for now. He’d find something to tie them up with later, since he didn’t have a spare belt. He knelt down so he could try to catch Garrett’s eye.

“Here, trade me,” He held out the bowl. “We’ll worry about the shirt in a bit.”

Garrett gave a single nod and held out the shirt. Basso took it and after a moment realized Garrett wasn’t going to take the bowl. He started to say something, then decided against it. He set the bowl on the mattress next to Garrett and got to his feet. Garrett stared at the floor as he ran his hand over his swollen fingers.

“Well, it’s there when you feel up to eating. I’m going to go see if I can get another blanket. It’s bloody cold this morning and I don’t think these are going to be enough.”

He held out the wool blanket. Garrett didn’t move or say anything. Basso nodded and set the blanket at the foot of the bed. He stepped back and rubbed his hand over his beard. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

He glanced back at Garrett before walking up the stairs. He could barely even see the thief in the dim light. Maybe that was for the best right now.


End file.
